


Seven Nation Army

by MountainDont



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Also he and Sidonis repair things and get their, Also originally Sidonis was supposed to save Garrus's family if you let him live, Because I really really need for Garrus and Sidonis to be friends again okay, Because you know EDI and Joker are gonna get it on, But that never happened so I'm saying it fucking did, Clones, Dirty Talk, Epic Bromance, F/F, F/M, Fight me fam, Fluff, Genetically Engineered Beings, Geth, He's too precious for this galaxy, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Legion Lives, Lesbian Sex, Minor Character Death, Mordin and Thane are still dead though, Original Character Death(s), Plz don't I'm a delicate flower, Post-Reaper War, Protecting Garrus Vakarian, Robot Sex, Rough Sex, Shepard lives, Slow Burn, Xenophilia, back together again, semi-au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8627182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainDont/pseuds/MountainDont
Summary: "Cats have nine lives. Shepard has ten."But with Commander Jane Shepard caught in a war between the Council, a rogue spy, and an army of tank-bred Protheans, ten lives just might not be enough.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mmm. Gotta love exposition in the first chapter, amirite? My creative writing professor would shit green bricks sideways if he saw this. But given how kinda AU this is, exposition is also kind of necessary, since I'm rewriting a few rules to make it work. Don't judge me fam. Anyway, slow burn for everyone but Liara/Shep and Joker/EDI, since they're pre-established relationships. All ships get equal attention. Also adorable OC Salarian scientists to counter Mordin being dead, because I'm still not over that.

If Shepard had learned anything in her life, it was that being woken up at four in the morning to hold an emergency meeting with the Council never meant anything good. She groaned, pressed her face into Liara’s shoulder, and wished she could go back to sleep. The Asari stroked her hair, urged her to go. “It’s important,” she said. Shepard grumbled something about needing coffee first before getting out of bed, sliding into her civilian clothes, and heading out of the apartment she’d inherited from Anderson.

The Citadel was as peaceful as ever. After the Reaper War, things had just fallen back into place. No threats to Council security. Refugees were finally being sent back to their home planets – or a suitable alternative if, as was the case with Palaven, the planet had been destroyed beyond repair. Fortunately, that meant that the Vakarians still lingered around the Council. Garrus still hadn’t gotten that Spectre promotion that he’d been after, but he still refused to take a job with C-Sec again, despite his father’s constant pressure to do so. The last time Shepard had met him three days ago, he seemed a little lost. He was through with vigilante work after what happened on Omega, and C-Sec didn’t satisfy him nearly enough to keep him around. He’d confided in Shepard, told her that traversing through the galaxy with her had given him meaning. “Now that there’s no war, I don’t know what to do with myself,” he’d admitted. She bought their drinks that night, after he’d gotten drunk enough to forget about his problems. People needed a reason to live, and Garrus’s reason had been protecting others. Now that he had no outlet for it, she feared what he’d turn into.

She arrived at the Council at five, where she was escorted to Sparatus’s office. The door opened and closed behind her. The councilors, all collected in this one room, turned to face Shepard as she entered. In her normal civilian clothes, she lacked the intimidation most people had come to associate with her. But that was how it went, right? Following the Reaper War, Shepard had been uncovered, barely alive. And now she seemed to think she had paid all her dues. Was ready to just settle down and live a normal life with her Asari fiancée. “Make it quick,” she said, “I’m on vacation.” But some things never changed. Her attitude still brought stale air to the Council, and they exchanged exasperated looks. Why did they even put up with her? She was their most belligerent Spectre; sometimes, getting the job done wasn’t enough to keep someone around.

Shepard knew good and well that they were thinking of stripping the status from her once again. Never mind that she’d saved their asses more times than they could count, and that she’d defeated the Reapers, nearly at the cost of her own life. Two of the three Councilors hated her, and with no human Councilor to replace Udina, she was outnumbered. She doubted they’d ever find a suitable replacement. To them, Udina had served as proof that humans were not to be trusted. Sparatus, in particular, remained reluctant in accepting the nomination of any human Councilor. Though there had been talk of perhaps implementing a Quarian one – which also didn’t bode well for Shepard, given that the only Quarian she really liked was Tali. They hated Shepard, too, after all the hoops she jumped through to save the Geth. And her continued defense over the Geth had sparked distrust amongst the Council, as well.

After the Reaper War, they just didn’t trust anything that wasn’t organic.

With numbers rising up against her, it only made sense that the Council wanted to get rid of Shepard. So why they decided to ring her up at four in the morning to arrange for an emergency meeting when they had several other Spectres to choose from was beyond her.

“Spectres don’t take vacations,” Sparatus said. Shepard folded her arms across her chest. They stared each other down, that familiar rivalry sparking anger in her veins. She should have let him die when he had the chance, but no. Her morals had to get involved.

It was Tevos who spoke up next. “Believe me, Commander Shepard, if we could have let you rest longer, we would have.” The Asari stepped forward, holding a datapad in her hand. She handed it to Shepard, who accepted it and looked over its contents. It appeared to be a dossier with limited information. Suspicious. “Unfortunately,” Tevos continued, “duty calls once again.”

The datapad flickered up at her, showing a picture of a pretty girl with light hair. Her straight nose upturned only slightly at the end, and her pouted lips pulled up into an effervescent smile. Underneath her photograph, a small amount of information stared back at the commander.

_Quintessa Greene, twenty-five years of age. Born on Earth, where she graduated with a degree in evolutionary biology. Family: Two younger sisters, a mother, and a father. All lost during the Reaper War. Wanted for treason._

“Treason?” Shepard asked, handing the datapad back to the Asari councilor. With that kind of brevity in the report, Shepard felt as if she wasn’t getting the entire story. But she feigned ignorance. She’d learned that arguing with the Council wasn’t nearly as effective as figuring things out on her own. Tevos nodded.

“She was a Council spy,” she informed Shepard. “Well on her way to becoming Spectre. She would have been the second human to ever achieve it, before Alenko, even.”

“So what happened?” Shepard asked.

“During her infiltration of Cerberus, she stole some of their classified research and ran with it,” Sparatus informed her. “Her charges were less significant then, but we got a message a week ago about what the research was about: Tank-breeding Protheans.” Shepard’s eyebrows raised. “You’re acquainted with a Prothean, Commander. You know how one acts. Imagine if there were an entire army of them.” He turned toward a terminal, where he pulled up the message and invited Shepard over to read it.

_Sender: Anonymous  
Recipient: Citadel Council  
Subject: Quintessa Greene  
Body: Council,_

_I am not Quintessa, but I know where you can find her, and I know what she’s doing. That information and technology she stole from Cerberus is guaranteed to put your Council in danger and start another war. She’s already tank-bred hundreds of Protheans. If you want to collect your rogue spy, pick her up at Omega. Oh, and bring an army of your own. Delta doesn’t go down easy._

“Quintessa had limited combat experience,” Sparatus continued, after Shepard had finished reading. “I’m not sure how tough of a fight she’ll put up, given that, but we’re ready to send in Spectre forces just in case.”

“How does a girl without combat experience become a contender for Spectre?” Shepard asked.

“The title would have given her Spectre resources. She may not have been a soldier, but she was a great spy. We believed at the time that her work would have been the start of significant galactic safety.” Valern spoke with a sneer. Given what Shepard knew about him, she figured he must have hated the idea of sending a spy to take on Cerberus when they could have just used proven, less quick methods. “It seems that we placed our trust in the wrong person.”

Shepard unfolded her arms and looked out the window. Life on the Citadel was starting to begin. Vendors began arriving at their shops to set up displays and sale signs. Some window-shoppers browsed, preparing for an early day. She sighed, turned her attention back to the Councilors. “I’ll need time to gather up my team,” Shepard said.

“We already took care of that,” Sparatus said. Shepard frowned at him. “Time isn’t a commodity we can spare now, Shepard. The Normandy will be ready for departure in approximately two hours.” The commander turned to leave, but the Turian councilor spoke up once more. “Oh, and I would advise against bringing Javik with you. Conflict of interests and all that.”

“He’s part of my crew,” Shepard replied, not bothering to face him as she left through the door. “His loyalty is with me.” And she’d be damned if she trusted the Council enough to make that call for her.

* * *

Shepard arrived at the dock nearly two hours after her meeting with the Council. Joker stood outside it, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Next to him, EDI waited patiently for Shepard’s arrival. “Good morning, Commander,” she said in her usual subdued tone. Joker suppressed a yawn. Despite his exhaustion, he looked comfortable. Happier than he ever had. Shepard wondered if the humor would be a mask over darkness, or if it would actually come from a better place, now that things with EDI were working out. “All the crew has arrived and is ready to go at your word.” EDI’s eyes drifted over Commander Shepard’s shoulder to watch a new approach. She smiled, albeit a little hesitantly. “Good morning, Javik.” He grumbled something about unnecessary pleasantries and boarded the ship.

“Not a morning person,” Shepard offered, then followed him. She knew Javik’s exact problem, and it wasn’t early mornings. She’d briefed him on the entire mission – right down to the details that the Council had been so worried about. Javik’s range of emotions had shifted between hopeful to disgust. He’d commented on how these Protheans were hardly real, and that he was insulted on behalf of his people that some primitive scientist thought she could recreate the Prothean empire through technology alone. And to drive the nail into the coffin, it was stolen Cerberus technology. He’d never been silent about his opinions on Cerberus.

But underneath that anger, there was a single ray of light. Pure or not, those Protheans were Javik’s only chance at meeting his own people again. And Shepard was willing to let it happen. She knew she was playing a dangerous game with it, but he deserved the closure, after dedicating his life to fighting the very beings that turned the Protheans into horrific genetic monsters. Even if it meant just letting him observe the Protheans through a tank, Javik deserved to know that it was possible for them to live again.

After the Normandy left the Citadel, Shepard began making her rounds. She wasn’t surprised to find her usual crew there. On top of Joker, EDI, and Javik, they’d also managed to round up James, Cortez, Tali, and Garrus. He seemed a lot brighter, now that he had something to look forward to. Shepard found it ironic that a man who lived to protect others secretly wished for war. But she understood the conflict. Without war, there was nothing to protect people against.

“Gotta say, Shepard,” Garrus said as they stood together in the mess hall, “I’m not too happy about going back to Omega. The place is a virus.”

“I heard they turned it around,” James replied, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, like Aria’s going to keep a promise like that,” Garrus countered.

“Nah, not Aria. It was a coup or something like that. Surprised you don’t keep up with it,” James said. Garrus shrugged his shoulders. He’d believe it when he saw it. “So, Lola, what’s the deal with this shit? Some rogue spy trying to make Protheans, I got that, but what else?”

“I’m not sure,” Shepard replied. “I trust the Council about as far as I can throw them, so I’ve got Liara working on getting the details now.”

“You know, despite him being Turian and you being human, I think you could toss Sparatus at _least_ a few yards,” Garrus said.

“It’s the abs of steel,” Shepard agreed.

“Damn right it is,” James replied, looking her over. She smiled at him, then left to find Liara. As usual, the woman sat at a series of terminals, watching the screens carefully. She’d come along for the ride, too, after Shepard had informed her that she could really use the Asari’s help. She looked up when Shepard entered the room.

“Find anything?” the commander asked.

Liara moved over, allowing Shepard access to one of the terminals. It had been playing a video of an Asari that seemed to be in trouble. Liara rewound it, then turned up the volume. “This is video log entry twenty-six. I haven’t been keeping up with my records. Things have been busy here at Delta. But this is important. I’m leaving. I never wanted to betray Tess, but she’s got the wrong idea. These Protheans deserve a second chance. Their people were wiped out before their natural time. She should know this. We even talked about forced evolution, and we agreed that it’s unnatural. But she’s set in her ways. I love her. But she’s a hypocrite. It’s her biggest flaw. Hundreds of Protheans, floating around in tanks, barely even alive, unaware of what’s happening to them. Unaware that they’re little more than test subjects. It’s inhumane. And for what? Research for diseases and regeneration? I’ve tried to get her to see things my way, but …” The Asari sighed. Her eyes saddened. She seemed weary, exhausted with whatever was plaguing her mind. “She dismisses me, each and every time. Says that there’s no way of knowing how they would react. I get that, I do, but where do we draw our moral line in the sand? She’s so anti-violence, but there are ways to be cruel without ever drawing blood. This is an entire species we’re talking about, and even though they’re stuck in limbo, they’re as alive as I am. Unaware, but alive. Why isn’t she treating them like that?” A knock on the door. The Asari turned to look behind her, then back at the camera. “I’m leaving tonight, and I’m using this research for its intended purposes.”

The video cut out. Shepard’s brow furrowed. “I uncovered that remotely from a private terminal at Omega,” she said. “Her name is Selara Narik, an Asari Maiden. I pulled up her file.” Liara opened up a folder on a different terminal, summarizing its contents as Shepard read. “She was a civil rights activist for Geth.”

“Dangerous thing to do, given what the galaxy’s always thought about the Geth,” Shepard said. The Council had tried to wipe out the Geth, but to no avail. Even so, it seemed as if Geth sightings were being reported less and less. A few had been seen on Omega, but that was out of the Council’s jurisdiction, so there was little they could do about it unless they wanted to start a war with Aria.

“She met Quintessa during the Reaper War, after Aria regained power over Omega. They shared the same moral values regarding oppression, and Quintessa believed that using Omega as a home for the Geth would benefit both them and the Quarians. She and Selara bonded over that, and with a Salarian named Zelik, they worked on expanding the research on Prothean incubation in hopes that it would help achieve their long term goals. Selara and Quintessa never saw eye-to-eye, and it led to a significant lack of trust on Quintessa’s part. After recruiting rogue Salarian and Turian scientists, which sparked the beginnings of the operation now known as Delta, she eventually demoted Selara to keep her away from the Prothean subjects. Quintessa feared she would release them.”

Shepard nodded. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do. She shared the same concerns as Quintessa. The Protheans would react to a new environment and a new time in unpredictable ways. Normally, Shepard wouldn’t be so concerned about tank-bred species. Grunt had been perfectly fine, if not a little culturally dissociated from his fellow Krogans. But Protheans had their memory in their DNA, and if Shepard knew anything about genetics, it was that it was passed down from generation to generation. You couldn’t handle Prothean DNA without memories being an important aspect of it. She wasn’t a scientist, but even she knew that they would need no history lesson about what happened to their people. They, like Javik, would remember the other species as primitives. And they could, quite possibly, try to restore the status quo to their own cycle.

Liara continued, “I also managed to pull up a file on related names, such as Zelik Giv, the Salarian that works with Quintessa. Currently, he’s her closest ally. He worked with a prestigious band of other scientists dedicated to curing rare genetic disorders. But progress was slow, and he wasn’t above theft to get the resources and funding they needed. Eventually, he was fired from his job for his corruption. Quintessa contacted him directly and recruited him. He still continues to funnel money from other accounts into a private one strictly used for their organization, but it seems as if he has a moral code about it. A majority of the funds come from corrupt politicians, and they’re almost impossible to trace.”

So, Quintessa had recruited an Asari that she didn’t agree with on the most sensitive aspect of their research, and a Salarian known for theft. She sure knew how to pick them. The girl was young, but that was no excuse for naivety – especially given her career prior to her research. Weren’t spies supposed to think a little more critically about their choices? “Did you get anything on Quintessa?” Shepard asked.

Liara pulled up yet another file on her terminal. “As the Council said, she has a degree in genetic evolution. She doesn’t have a specialty, but rather focuses on a lot of species. Her dissertation focused on how biocultural evolution plays a role in genetics, and how that particular brand of evolution could prolong life – or even reverse death. When you first began working with Cerberus, the Council heard about the research she’d done on the topic and contacted Quintessa to try to find out how they’d gotten the technology to bring you back to life. Quintessa was promised Spectre status if she managed to complete the mission. She infiltrated Cerberus without any difficulties, despite having no experience as a spy, and while she never managed to uncover the information the Council wanted, she identified a secret operation to build an army.”

“I remember,” Shepard said. “Binthu.”

“No,” Liara said. “This was a separate operation altogether. It was so confidential that most Cerberus operatives weren’t even aware that it was in the works. In fact, orders came down in bits and pieces to scientists so that no person knew what the other was working on. They couldn’t possibly formulate the end goal. Only two people knew about it.”

“The Illusive Man,” Shepard said. “And once she found out, Quintessa.” It still amazed Shepard that Quintessa, despite her lack of experience in both combat and espionage, somehow managed to infiltrate Cerberus. While Shepard had seen younger people accomplish greater things, it was not Quintessa’s youth that made her so skeptical. It was the fact that she was a scholar, not a fighter. All signs pointed to her being woefully underprepared for the mission. So what was it about her that made her so great at what she did?

“Precisely. Fearing what Cerberus would do if they actually managed to create a Prothean army, Quintessa stole the research, eradicated all history of it from their intelligence, and ran to Omega. Cerberus hired a band of mercenaries to kill Quintessa and bring the research back, but they never got the chance.” Liara turned to face Shepard. “Archangel got to them first.”

“Good old Garrus,” Shepard said. “So she wasn’t betraying the Council. She was trying to protect the galaxy from another threat.” She stared at Liara. Liara stared back. “I think the obvious question is how someone so underqualified for this kind of work not only gets recruited by the Council to take on a suicide mission, but accepts the job and _succeeds_ with it.”

“I’m afraid there’s no simple answer,” Liara said, her eyes saddening. Shepard felt as if she’d opened up a can of worms she didn’t want to digest. “Reports written by the Council suggest they knew she was going to die. But she was the only one with the educational qualifications to have a chance at interpreting Cerberus genetic operations. She almost quite literally wrote the book on how you could bring someone back to life, just by tampering with genetics.” Liara sighed, looked away. “She was disposable, Jane. That’s what why the Council sent her. They couldn’t risk losing any more Spectres. I believe they tossed the promotion in there to sweeten the deal, fully believing she wouldn’t come out of it alive.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Shepard replied, disgusted.

“But remarkably, she did manage to live. She fooled even the Illusive Man. And she successfully stole the technology and has remained hidden for years, even after Cerberus and the Council both tried to locate her. The explanation, I believe, comes down to determination and luck. If she hadn’t been on Omega when Garrus was there, she would have died. And if she hadn’t had the willpower to learn how to survive hardship, she would have failed. Instead, she managed to build up an entire organization dedicated to helping people.” Finally, the Asari looked back at the commander. “Can I be honest with you, Jane?” Shepard nodded. “I believe this might be the most politically corrupt thing the Council’s done. It backfired on them, and now they want to make sure word doesn’t get out about it. They’re willing to sacrifice everything for it, even destroying research that could save millions of lives.”

“Or destroy them,” Shepard replied. “She _is_ tank-breeding Protheans, Liara. Remember?”

“Yes,” Liara replied. “But what you have to remember, Jane, is that Quintessa is against releasing them.” Clearly, Liara didn’t like that. Shepard understood why. She’d always loved Protheans. “She is not a threat to the galaxy. I believe Selara, however, is.”

Shepard folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t necessarily approve of Liara’s desire to bring the Protheans back. She considered it unnecessary endangerment. But she decided to let it slide for now. Just because Liara had an opinion didn’t mean she’d act upon it. “So, the Council discovered that she took the technology and ran. What next?”

“Well,” Liara replied, “Remember that they never expected her to come out of it alive. The fact that she did was a shock to them. They demanded the research from her, but she refused to give it to them. And for good reason. The research, in and of itself, was trying to find ways to reverse the genetic manipulation of Collectors to clone Protheans. Quintessa discovered that if she used some of the same mechanisms, she could research the reversal of genetic disorders among varying species and potentially find cures for them. Fearing that the Council would destroy the research altogether, and since she had wiped out all records of the research from Cerberus, she didn’t want to risk losing the last remnants of it. Once they discovered what the research contained, the Council was none too pleased. They labeled her a terrorist, and she’s wanted for treason as a result.

“Recent findings show,” Liara continued, “that Quintessa expanded Delta to nearly two hundred employees. The entire operation is located on Omega, and while it’s small, it’s been relatively successful. So far, during trial runs, she’s managed to cure a few rare disorders. Kepral’s is one – unfortunately too late for Thane – but Corpalis is another. It seems as if Quintessa never forgot that Archangel saved her and the research, even inadvertently. The patient she cured was his mother.”

“How did she find out about his mother?” Shepard asked.

“I didn’t get any requests on his information,” Liara replied. “In fact, Quintessa’s research didn’t require any additional efforts on my behalf as Shadow Broken at all. But I would have gladly supplied it to her regardless.” Of course she would have. Liara, the local nerd for Protheans, and the bleeding heart who cared about Garrus’s wellbeing. Shepard didn’t blame her for liking Quintessa. If Liara was right – and Shepard trusted her reports more than she trusted the Council’s – then Quintessa was the kind of woman Shepard liked, too. “But I did manage to discover that she and Garrus have a mutual acquaintance. Lantar Sidonis.”

Shepard sighed. Sidonis. She remembered having to force Garrus into realizing that the man’s life was worth something. And if he played a hand in keeping Garrus’s family safe and well, then he’d certainly kept his word on making it up to the man. “Why would she trust someone with a track record like that?” Shepard asked.

“Sidonis isn’t a part of Delta,” Liara replied. “But she had heard of his involvement with Archangel and asked him for information on how to repay him for what he’d done. Sidonis, eager to make amends, agreed. It helped ease both their minds a bit.”

The Asari pulled up yet another file. It seemed like medical jargon to Shepard. She couldn’t understand a word of it. True to Liara’s nature, she summarized it for the commander. “This shows progress they’ve made with the research, as well as setbacks. As you can see, thanks to Zelik, funding is of no issue. They’ve made substantial headway in curing multiple diseases, though some of them come with negative side effects for humans, such as cyan biotics that are difficult to control.” Of course. Use research intended for Protheans on other species, and there were bound to be some downfalls. “For those patients who experienced that side effect, they were offered additional treatment in the form of a chip implant, created by Zelik. The most interesting part is that before each trial run for human medicine, Quintessa offers herself as a volunteer for experiment.” She pulled up one final file.

This file contained only an aerial image of Aria, surrounded by Geth. The only other two that stood out were a gray Salarian who wore a black suit with a white triangle on his shoulder, and a woman donning thick black armor that looked nearly impenetrable. While the Salarian carried a formidable-looking gun, the woman in armor was completely unarmed – though the picture had been taken right when a suspicious, cyan spark had erupted from the shoulder of her armor. Aria’s visage glared at the group; she’d been beaten. And badly. “Quintessa is not a skilled fighter, but the experiments have given her biotics that’s rarely achievable even by Asari standards. I believe this outcome was intentional. True to her word with Selara, Quintessa underwent painful procedures for the sake of sparing anyone else, even though she was terrified of the outcome and lacked faith in herself. She did it to take on Aria, despite her strong hatred of violence. But it worked out in her favor. She eventually turned Omega into a safe haven for Geth, though most of them work for her now. In short, Jane, she was not a soldier, but she became one despite her own self-interests.”

“I can admire that mindset,” Shepard said. “It amped up her biotics even beyond Aria’s standards, it looks like.”

“That’s a stretch,” Liara replied. “Aria is a powerful opponent. I don’t believe that Quintessa could have taken her on alone. But with an army of Geth, and a calculating Salarian that constructed an indestructible suit of armor to protect her? Aria was defeated. Omega turned into a land of prosperity – but only for those who were willing to live peacefully with the Geth. Essentially, Quintessa, Zelik, and Selara founded Delta – which became the antithesis to Cerberus.”

“But Selara wasn’t satisfied with that,” Shepard said.

“I don’t blame her,” Liara said, removing the files from the screen so that she could face Shepard. “It must be torture, having to watch living creatures being subjected to that. She wanted them to live life. And life cannot be lived in a tank.”

“Why keep the Protheans around, then? If Quintessa’s goal wasn’t to free them, then what’s the point?”

“Unfortunately, tank-breeding Protheans is a necessary part of the process,” Liara explained. “They’re a part of the experiment, Jane, and while I don’t agree with that part of it, I do understand the necessity. When she tried to recreate the research for humans, just to avoid the negative side effects, it was woefully ineffective. Until Quintessa figures out a way to apply the research to every species, she can’t possibly go without the Protheans.”

Shepard sighed. Her head spun. She had a great deal of information to think about on their way to Omega. But one thing was for certain: Quintessa was not their enemy. If anything, it was Selara. And, quite possibly, the Council. “One more thing,” Liara said. “I managed to locate who sent that email to the Council. It was from Aria.” Shepard wasn’t surprised. Aria was pissed that she’d lost her throne. Of course she’d want Quintessa gone. But that meant that things were about to get a hell of a lot more complicated.

* * *

She found Garrus in the Main Battery room, calibrating the ship as usual. “You got a minute?” she asked. He glanced at her from over his shoulder.

“Always got time for you,” he said. “What’s up?” He finished up his worked and turned to face her.

Shepard didn’t know how to go about telling him this. She leaned against the wall, looking into his eyes. Garrus had always been one of her best friends. They’d admired each other, for both their bravery and their honor. He could be a bit of a loose cannon sometimes, with his strong need for revenge. And that was precisely what bothered her this time. “So, your family made it off Palaven,” she said. Garrus nodded, casting her a confused look. That was old news.

“Yeah, someone got them.”

“I also know that they found a cure for your mother.” Garrus’s mandibles flexed. Uncertainty. Surprise. Perhaps a little bit of shame. He’d never told her about his mother. It had taken some snooping in the old Shadow Broker’s logs to figure it out for herself. But she knew that the woman had been ill. And now she knew that she was cured. “Do you know the details behind it?”

He sighed. “No,” he admitted. “Wish I did, though. I’d buy them a few rounds.”

“You may rethink that after I tell you,” she said.

“Wait, you know about it?” She nodded. “Who?”

“Oh, prepare to be surprised. Apparently, after you spared a certain traitor Turian’s life, he decided it would be worth while to pick your family up from Palaven.” Garrus didn’t blink. He looked like he was barely breathing. Shepard knew that Garrus had never figured out about Sidonis saving his family. “And a certain rogue spy that we’re supposed to hunt down and bring back to the Council for trial and inevitable execution on the grounds of treason? She heard about this Turian’s former partnership with you. Sidonis brought your mother to Omega to get the cure.”

Garrus ran his talons over his head. “I don’t get it,” he said. “I mean, I’m grateful. _Really_ grateful. Kind of restores my faith in the galaxy a little bit. But why?”

“The way it was explained to me, a few mercs were going after the research Quintessa had stolen. You killed them before they could kill her, first.” She offered him a smile. “She felt indebted to you. So did Sidonis.”

“Hell, Shepard. I don’t know if I feel comfortable going after her anymore.”

“Tough luck. It’s the mission.” He sighed again. “Relax. That was a joke. Wouldn’t be the first time I said fuck the Council.”

“You’ll lose Spectre status. _Again_.” He paused. Considered it for a moment. “But you are like that human saying, I guess. Cats have nine lives. Shepard has ten.” She laughed. “So what, we go back to the Citadel? Tell the Council to find someone else for the job?”

“No,” Shepard replied. “We’re meeting Quintessa. But instead of a rogue spy, we’re going for a rogue scientist by the name of Selara Narik. She has plans to release the Protheans.”

“Not that I’m well-versed enough on human culture to know the origin of the reference, but I’m a little disappointed you didn’t take the opportunity to say _release the Kraken_.”

“Ah, yes. Kraken. We’ve already dismissed that claim.” She winked at Garrus as he chuckled. “Get back to work, Garrus. When we get to Omega, I’ll be sure to bring you along with me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Javik's a dickwad. Sidonis is still wandering around like a kicked puppy. Garrus still feels so alone in the world. And Aria's spooky as fuck.

When they arrived at Omega, Shepard came into the Main Battery room to speak to Garrus personally. She must have seen the nerves, interpreted it in his eyes or something, because she offered as comforting of a smile as she could. It was a damn shame that she was with Liara. For all her ferocity on the battle field, she really was a gentle soul. Complexity like that just got to men like Garrus. But he respected the limits of her relationship, and didn’t pursue anything. Hell, if it weren’t for all the baggage he came with, he probably would have gone in search of a girlfriend of his own. Maybe he needed to work on himself a bit. Get himself to the point where he could openly accept some companionship. 

“It’ll be fine, Garrus,” she said. “You don’t even have to see him.” He sighed, turned back to look at the battery. He wondered if there were any more bolts that he could tighten, and how long it would take him to do it. Long enough for him to pass the time until they were out of this damned placed? “Do you want to see him?”

He wasn’t sure, really. Was he even ready for it? Ten different images flashed through his mind. Blood spilled. The blood of honest comrades. The best people he’d ever known outside this ship. Willingly sacrificing their own time, their own safety, to help others. All gone, all because of Sidonis. And here Garrus was, wanting to hold onto the grudge because of the past – because he felt he owed it to his team. But despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel as if Sidonis’s dues had been paid. “It’s as good a time as any,” he finally said.

“Atta boy,” Shepard said. He glanced over, just in time to see her wink at him. “You still got his contact information?”

“Yeah,” Garrus said. “I’ll meet him later.”

“I’d do it sooner,” Shepard replied. “I got stuff to do before we can take care of the mission, anyway.” But Garrus knew the truth. Shepard had been his best friend for some time now. Wanted to see him do well. Wanted to see him thrive. Wanted to give him some time to take care of the things that had been plaguing him. He began thinking that, maybe, he shouldn’t have dumped all of his problems on her back on the Citadel. She probably worried too much about him. Spirits knew she was capable of it. “Got an old friend I have to meet.”

“What kinds of friends do you meet on Omega?” Garrus asked.

“I reconnected with you here,” Shepard replied as she made her way to the door. “Can’t be all bad, right?” With a lingering smile, she left Garrus alone. He waited a few more moments, gathering up his courage, before he grabbed his rifle and left, as well. He stopped short, watching as Javik emerged from his own chamber of isolation, hands still dripping wet from the shallow waters of the basin he kept in there. Their eyes met. Javik didn’t blink once. Garrus had learned by now that when Protheans stared at you, it could mean one of two things: They were trying to seduce you, or they were trying to intimidate you. Garrus sure as hell hoped it wasn’t the former.

Javik approached, an unnecessary movement that Garrus didn’t indicate he wanted. When he spoke, his voice was low. “I hear you are going to be reconnecting with a traitor,” he said, sounding unimpressed. Disgusted, even.

“I don’t want to hear about your cycle,” Garrus replied, anxiety turning to anger. He kept calm, though. No use trying to start a fight on the Normandy.

Javik sneered at this, then chuckled. Low, dark. Definitely an intimidation tactic. “Bring trouble to the commander,” he said, voice quieter now, barely even a whisper, “and I bring trouble to you. Men like your friend are not to be trusted.” He stared at Garrus one more time, as if to drill the point home. The Turian squared his shoulders, tilted his chin up. Too proud to fall for bullshit like this. Javik turned on his heel and left. Garrus waited until the Prothean was out of sight before relaxing his posture.

He stared down at the rifle in his left hand. Remembered carrying it with him during his glory days on Omega. His visor felt like a weight, burning into his eye. It narrowed in on his own insecurities, created a clear path to the extremities that crippled him. He stared back up at the mess hall, noting how empty it felt, like even he was a ghost.

* * *

Garrus waited in Afterlife. The heavy pounding of the music hadn’t changed one bit, but somehow, the overall feel of the place had. In lieu of law enforcement, Geth patrolled by the doors, carefully monitoring all activity within the club. It was nice to see someone other than the token Turian or Krogan playing security. Just when he was starting to think they would never get past those roles, Omega actually had a change of heart. And from the looks of it, the people were enjoying it. People still celebrated, raising glasses to Quintessa, and some even greeted the Geth energetically. Most seemed apprehensive about their presence, but Garrus figured as long as they didn’t act out on it, there wouldn’t be a problem.

Personally, he was glad to see the Geth get a second chance. He and Shepard had shared the opinion that they were worth so much more than being the galactic outcasts. He figured the Quarians must be pretty happy about getting their planet back, too.

Garrus caught movement from his peripherals. The other Turian stood next to him at the bar, unable to meet his gaze. After all this time, guilt still ate Sidonis alive. For a few long moments, neither of them said anything. Finally, Sidonis spoke up. “I put you through hell, Garrus.” He stared down at the countertop. “And shit, everyone else?” Sidonis scoffed. “There’s no evening it out.”

“Yeah, well.” Garrus downed the rest of his drink. Suddenly, he wasn’t thirsty for any more, despite his dry throat. He hated stuff like this. Forgiveness wasn’t necessarily in his nature, especially after what Sidonis had done. But there had been moments in time when he’d been able to see past the bad deeds. See the good that still lingered there. He remembered it with Saren, too. As much as he hated humans, the guy would have rather exalted them than do what he did while indoctrinated. “You saved three lives.”

“That’s seven more I have to make up for.”

“Nah.” Sidonis looked up at Garrus, a mixture of concern and surprise evident in his gaze. Garrus pretended not to notice. “You said you’d make it up to me, not them. And as far as I’m concerned, you did it.”

More silence passed between the two. It was clumsy. Awkward. They both had things that they wanted to say, but neither knew where to start. Sidonis wasn’t one for sentiment, and Garrus had never been able to see objectively past his own emotions. If they started now, a dam would break open. Garrus found himself in an uncomfortable position. He’d just gotten used to the idea of things never going back to the way they were during his Archangel days. He wasn’t anyone’s hero before. Hell, he could barely even keep his own life together. And now, he had to face this. Another monumental change, where things wouldn’t be the same.

He couldn’t stay angry at Sidonis. Not after saving his family. Not after helping them locate a cure for his mother. A cure that would, undoubtedly, save thousands of Turians in the years that followed. Throwing himself in harm’s way, right in the middle of a damn Reaper attack, just to get his family off Palaven. If that wasn’t the noble, Turian thing to do – the epitome of selfless bravery that his species prided themselves on – then Garrus didn’t know what was.

There was still good there, inside of Sidonis. Garrus knew it. It had taken him a while to come to terms with it, that you can’t justify death with more of it. Killing Sidonis wouldn’t have brought them back. It would have just been another body to add to the growing puddle of blood on his hands. And while war had helped him become immune to it, Garrus still felt guilt prick at the back of his neck like needles when he was alone, late at night, wondering what in the hell the future had in store for him.

He was glad he let Sidonis live.

“Well,” he said, “I said I’d buy a round for whoever helped my family.” And if nothing else, Garrus Vakarian was a man of his word. After calling for drinks, Garrus turned his attention back up to one of the Asari dancers. Sidonis leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar, and watched, too. Just like old times.

Not much time had passed before they were ready to leave. Both were only slightly inebriated. Garrus needed to keep his head clear for the mission ahead, and Sidonis always turned into an emotional wreck after enough alcohol got in his system. Given the circumstances, he wanted to avoid that. Before the two parted ways, Sidonis turned to face the other. “Garrus,” he said. “I, uh. I wanted to say thanks. For giving me the chance.”

Garrus carefully considered what to say next. That he was welcome? That he was just glad that Sidonis didn’t go back on his word and fuck even more up? Sidonis must have interpreted his silence differently, because he began his departure with one final afterthought: “I’ll see you around.” As Garrus watched the man’s retreating form, he thought about it.

Thought about the broken wreck of a man Sidonis had become. Had his guilt not been punishment enough? Had his acts of bravery not been selfless enough to justify his purpose? Finally, Garrus called out, “I got time for target practice, if you’re interested.” At first, he figured Sidonis didn’t hear him. But then he turned, looked back at Garrus.

* * *

“I gotta know – how’s it feel to be the one Turian that doesn’t know how to use a damn gun?” Garrus leaned against a wall, rifle propped up next to him, as Sidonis lowered his arms. He’d missed the shot. He swore under his breath. “Guess we can’t all be sharpshooters,” Garrus continued. Sidonis leaned next to him, staring up at the Omega sky. Garrus followed his gaze. It gave him a sense of vertigo, and he welcomed it. It was a hell of a lot better than the constant shift between pain and alcohol-induced numbness.

“So,” Sidonis said, trying to fill the void even though its depths consumed him, “what did you come to Omega for?”

Garrus contemplated telling him the truth. He wasn’t sure how much Sidonis knew about Quintessa, and if revealing confidential information would jeopardize the mission. Though he’d been willing to see if Sidonis was worth forgiveness, he wasn’t ready to trust him again. Not after what happened last time. Plus, Javik did have a point. As much as Garrus hated it, he was right that Sidonis couldn’t be trusted with stuff like this ever again. It felt like a stab in the heart. Because this – the time they’d just spent together – it felt so familiar.

All Garrus had now was Shepard. And it was only for this one mission. He couldn’t confide in anyone else, not even his own damn family. And it was tearing him apart. Ate him up inside that Sidonis was the one who’d caused it, and Garrus had no say in the ramifications. “Just a mission Shepard got sent on,” he said. “Nothing too important.”

“A Spectre goes on a mission to Omega – which isn’t even Council territory. Yeah, nothing important at all.” Sidonis eyed Garrus skeptically, then resigned. He wasn’t going to get any information out of him. “Well, glad you made it, anyway.”

Garrus marveled at how odd the universe worked sometimes. He wondered if the Spirits really were out there, smiling down favorably upon him. Yeah, he’d gone through hardship, and lots of it. But what mattered most to him – his family, his duty to the safety of others – it all still remained. Yeah, he was lonely as all hell. He’d lost a shot at Shepard, which was a damn shame. And even though he felt a little alienated from them, his family was fine, at least. Garrus could toss away his own problems for that. They seemed insignificant by comparison. He could die alone, carrying the burden of the galaxy on his shoulders, and it wouldn’t matter. Because all he really needed was there.

And in a strange, roundabout way, sparing Sidonis seemed to have worked in his favor, as well. Maybe life wasn’t all about proving a point. Maybe it was just about being there for people who needed it. “Yeah,” he said at last. “Me too.” He folded his arms across his chest. Sidonis caught sight of the familiar visor, and his good mood seemed to fade. Garrus pretended not to notice. In all fairness, he’d brought it upon himself. What did Sidonis expect would happen? That Garrus would still consider him a part of the squad? No, those years were over. And he wanted to keep it that way.

To avoid the awkward conversation that was bound to come from Sidonis’s observation, Garrus asked, “What can you tell me about Delta?” Sidonis snorted, eagerly accepting the distraction.

“Figures,” he said. “Tell me it’s nothing, then give it away. You never were good at keeping secrets.” Neither was Sidonis, but Garrus decided not to stoop that low. “Man, Garrus, I owe it to you. I know I do.” Those two sentences sent shockwaves down his entire body. Sidonis knew more than he’d let on, and his agreeing to meet with him was more than just a token of good will. A means to set the record straight. “Shit,” he said, sighing. “Give me a second.” He pushed himself off the wall, walked down the rooftop that they stood on, until he was out of earshot. He held a finger up to his ear, said something. Garrus wanted to sneak in closer, listen in. But before he could, Sidonis had returned. “All right,” he said. “Things just got hush-hush around Delta since we found out about the Council sending Spectres after us. But Tess, she trusts you. I figured she did. I just had to make sure.” Sidonis picked up his own rifle, shouldered it, and jerked his head at Garrus. “You want an up close and personal look at what goes on down in Delta?”

It felt wrong, doing this without Shepard. But his curiosity about how Sidonis had been living his life almost outweighed it. “Lead the way,” he said. Sidonis nodded, turned his back. As Garrus followed, he opened up his omnitool and sent a quick message Shepard’s way.

_Got a chance to check Delta out. Can’t wait around. I’ll keep in touch._

She replied almost immediately.

_Good. Lets us know what to expect beforehand. They’re probably not dangerous to us, but we want to make sure the galaxy’s safe, so stay on your toes._

“So, does Quintessa know about your history?” Garrus asked. Sidonis shrugged.

“Pretty sure,” he replied. “I don’t think the bad things I did matter much to her, though. She’s all about second chances. Forgiveness. The stuff I never really thought about until … You know.” Until he’d spotted the barrel of Garrus’s gun on the Citadel. Yeah, he knew. “She’s different from us, though. Doesn’t like death or violence. But there are times when she gets her hands dirty.”

“Like?”

“To protect others,” Sidonis said. “She didn’t kill Aria, though, and I think she regrets that. But there’ve been times when she’s taken a life. Doesn’t happen often, but when it does … Not even the best cleaning crew can keep up.” He looked over his shoulder to judge Garrus’s reaction. “Yeah, sounds impressive, right? Not by her standards. It’s the damn biotics. Thankfully, Zelik figured out how to keep it under wraps. The armor helps, but she had to live like a Quarian in that thing, so he worked out a device with the same biotic-control tech. Minus all the bonus protection.”

Garrus hated that he felt the temptation to fall into ease. The conversation flowed so naturally, and it seemed as if Sidonis had almost returned to normal. The night’s events had lifted some weight off his shoulders, and it looked like he had purpose now. Precisely what that purpose was, Garrus still didn’t know – but he figured it had a lot to do with Delta. Funny, hadn’t Shepard said that he wasn’t even a part of the organization? If that wasn’t accurate, then what else was wrong about the files Liara had pulled up?

And how in the hell did the Shadow Broker get incorrect information, anyway?

The two walked toward the shuttle bay. From there, they went straight to the Doru District, which Garrus barely remembered from his days as Archangel. There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot of crime here. Most of it transpired in more residential areas of Omega. But he still knew the basics. The place contained a majority of the station’s fundamental structures. Water purification, air purification, electric generators … But when they arrived, Garrus noticed a new building he’d never seen before. It must have spanned several stories high, reached a width he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. It held no windows and only contained one entrance point, which had Geth stationed by it. Sidonis nodded at them as the two Turians approached. The Geth whirred, electronic communication transpiring between them. Sidonis’s omnitool lit up. He looked down at it, and Garrus watched over his shoulder as a long stream of code appeared. Almost instantaneously, it translated.

_Memos for LANTAR SIDONIS, delivered TODAY at 19:06. Beginning memos._

_QUINTESSA GREENE: Two of the Geth are in severe disrepair after the recent fight in the Kima District. We went ahead and ordered some replacement parts from Sigma. Until then, you’ll be two short. Zelik insists you owe him money but don’t worry about it. Enjoy your night._

_Memos end._

“Aren’t Geth the main security here at Omega?” asked Garrus, raising his gaze to meet Sidonis’s. They entered the building together. The entrance room was large, and artificially bright. The floors had been coated with elaborately decorative tile that reflected light off its too-shiny surface. There were only two available points of access: The exit behind them, and an elevator at the far end of the room. A single receptionist desk had been arranged in the center, right underneath an ornate chandelier. An Asari stood at it, smiling at the two as they entered. The sterile smell of the place reminded Garrus of a hospital, but the look felt comfortable – like a luxury hotel.

Instead of answering Garrus’s question, Sidonis lifted a hand at the Asari in greeting. “Covering for Valir?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Zelik believes he may have discovered a cure for Ardat-Yakshi. Since she was the first volunteer on the list, she was called up.”

“Hope it works out.”

“I’ll let you know,” the Asari said, a knowing smile on her face. Sidonis turned then, without saying anything else to her, and Garrus recognized that look.

Embarrassment.

“You have a thing for an Ardat-Yakshi?” he asked.

“Yeah, Geth are our main security,” Sidonis replied. Garrus snorted in amusement. “I was promoted to look over them, make sure things ran smoothly.”

“Bet that impresses Valir.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

The two got into the elevator. It contained no options for floors, but instead had a speaker button. Sidonis pressed it with the tip of his talon. The speaker in the elevator crackled briefly, coming to life. “Yeah, I see you dirtbag.”

“Easy. Genophage is done and over with. No need to be hostile.”

The Krogan who spoke through the speaker laughed. “Got nothing to do with the genophage,” he grunted. “I just don’t like your face.” The speaker went out, and the elevator began its ascent. The two waited in silence, and Garrus couldn’t help the pounding in his own heart. He didn’t know what to anticipate. So far, this place seemed pleasant enough. That was, of course, until the elevator doors opened to reveal a dark room with a disgusting scent coming from it. “Your stop,” chimed the Krogan once more.

“The trash compactor again. Cute. Real original. Look, I got company, Gorv. Either you take me to whatever floor Tess is on, or I call in the Geth to do your job for the rest of the night.” The Krogan didn’t respond. The elevator descended this time, but only for a short period. When the doors opened again, they exited into a large, welcoming room filled with people of all different species. They sat in comfortable-looking chairs. While no one paid attention to it, a television hung in the corner, broadcasting local Omega news. The floors this time were off-white, and instead of calming chandeliers, the lights were bright and luminescent. No shadow lingered. Racks and tables had been littered with magazines printed in various different languages. He scanned briefly for his personal favorite – Guns and Glory – but couldn’t find it.

This place appeared to be a waiting room, and for the first time, Garrus got a glimpse at what kind of organization Delta really was. It wasn’t just a research center. It was a hospital. And by the looks of it, it was well-staffed enough so that no patient went unattended to. Salarians and Asari stood by, wearing identical black uniforms with white triangles on their left shoulders. They spoke to people, gathered up medical history. They provided tissues for crying patients. Everyone wore the same, comforting smile that said, _Welcome home._ He imagined where his family must have sat. Did Sidonis wait with them? Comfort them when they got afraid? Did they relax by reading magazines and watching the news? The possibilities sent warmth radiating down his limbs.

Even though he knew that Protheans were being bred in tanks somewhere in this building, and they were a danger to the galaxy, Garrus couldn’t help but like this place. And he was glad that Shepard hadn’t decided on getting rid of it. Whatever they were doing here, it was good. And if that meant that Shepard lost her Spectre status … Well, as long as she was fine with it, so was Garrus. He couldn’t, in good conscience, shut a place like this down. This was what he’d been trying to help create for Omega. A safe haven for people who had nowhere else to turn. And seeing it like this – it made him think that he’d done something right in his life.

Sidonis led Garrus halfway through the room before stopping. He directed Garrus’s attention to a crying human woman. Next to her, a man held his head in his hands. Another human kneeled before them, looking up with a positive smile on her face. She wore the same black uniform as other Delta employees. The only difference was a slowly blinking device wrapped around her wrist that gave off a calming cyan glow. Garrus couldn’t figure out if she was delivering good news, based on her expression, or bad, based on the tears. It didn’t take him long to figure it out.

“… will require a very brief recovery period, but we’ve already implemented cell regeneration protocol so that he’s back up to speed. If you’d like, you’re welcome to stay overnight until he’s ready to go home,” said the woman in black. She had blond hair. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. Blue eyes. Real pretty, if not a bit tired-looking. The crying woman nodded.

“Thank you,” she said between sobs. “We didn’t know where else to go.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” said the blond. “This is also a great opportunity for us. Because of this, we can now begin our research on how to reverse Tay-Sachs without all the negative side effects that comes with treatment. You and your son could have just saved countless lives. That’s something to be happy about.” She gave the woman a comforting pat on the knee. “I’ll have someone out here shortly to escort you to a room. Get some rest. You’ll need it for the trip home.”

She stood and turned, almost immediately spotting Sidonis. The weariness from her eyes faded, and her grin broadened. “Hey,” she greeted, approaching them. “Welcome back, Lantar. And you must be Garrus Vakarian. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” She held out a hand. He shook it. “I’m Quintessa. Call me Tess.”

Garrus didn’t know what to expect upon meeting Quintessa. He hadn’t been told anything about her. Just what kind of organization she ran, and that she had a serious misunderstanding with the Council. But considering his shock now, he figured he must have expected someone much older. She looked younger than he was. How could someone at that age accomplish this much in such a short amount of time? “Nice to meet you too,” he finally said.

She took in a deep breath through her nose and rolled forward on the balls of her feet before clasping her hands behind her back. “Lantar told me lots about you,” she said. She didn’t specify what stories she’d been told, and if she was as against violence as Garrus had been told, he figured it would have made her uncomfortable to. Unfortunately, his history was filled with blood. “So, we have lots to discuss. Can we talk in my office?”

“You look busy,” Garrus said, eyes traveling about the room. Quintessa dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand.

“We’re just delivering the day’s results for now. I’m done with work for today.” Reluctantly, Garrus nodded. She turned on her heel, leading the two through a door and down a long corridor. Garrus watched as she held her hands so tightly behind her back, her fingers nearly turned white. Finally, she led them through a second door, near the end of the hall. Sidonis entered first, followed by Garrus. Quintessa shut the door behind them.

Her office was large. Luxurious, even. It contained a desk with an impressive terminal, comparable only to what Liara had back on the Normandy. Bookshelves filled with medical journals lined the walls, making the room seem darker than it really was. The office doubled as an apartment, with a small kitchen in one corner and a bed pushed into the other. A door led to what Garrus figured was the bathroom. Quintessa gestured toward a small living set – a sofa and two chairs surrounding a coffee table. Garrus and Sidonis took the sofa. Quintessa sat in one of the chairs. She wrung her fingers on her lap, pulling at them nervously. “So,” she said, “let’s cut to the chase, then? I take it you came here with Commander Shepard.” Garrus nodded. She swallowed, seeming more nervous now than she had been before. She tried to keep the cheerful persona up, but failed. “Can I at least ask what the Council plans to do with all the work I’ve done?”

Garrus’s mandibles flared. “Yeah, uh …” He cleared his throat. “We’re still kind of on the fence about that. Apparently Shepard found out some stuff about your case that didn’t sit too well with her. Council’s fault, not yours.” Quintessa’s brow furrowed, and her lips pursed. Confusion. “We don’t think the Council’s been honest with us.” Her confusion didn’t fade. Garrus felt it, himself. He glanced at Sidonis, who nodded at him to continue.

Did they not know the full extent of what was going on?

“We’re just trying to figure out the whole story,” Garrus said, finally.

“The Council has the whole story,” Quintessa said. “I’ve kept them up to date on all the accomplishments we’ve made.”

“Apparently they don’t care too much about accomplishments when they stem from potentially dangerous Protheans,” Garrus replied. Though he did admit, it was sketchy that they knew all about the health benefits to this research and still labeled Quintessa a terrorist. Her expression changed then. From confusion, to realization. And then, predictably, to sadness. She pulled once on her thumb and then her hands relaxed.

“I see,” she said, slowly. She gazed about the room, trying to find an answer to some unspoken question. “I, um. I had no clue they were aware of that part. Most people aren’t.”

“Someone leaked it to them,” Garrus said. “Not sure what you thought would happen. It was bound to backfire.” She shook her head, that exhaustion coming back to her full force. She looked worn down. Like she’d seen enough of life but had to keep going for something she couldn’t express into words. “Shepard still hasn’t made a decision yet,” he reminded Quintessa. “The Council’s not always right. She knows that better than anyone.”

“Maybe they are,” Quintessa said with a defeated shrug. “I should have stopped while I was ahead, and now things are … well, as you said. They’re backfiring, and I have limited resources available to stop it.” She swallowed. “Lantar, do me a favor. Go show that couple a room.” Sidonis looked like he was about to argue, but she met him with a gaze that made his entire body stiffen. Impressive. Slowly, he nodded and stood before leaving the room. Her attention turned back to Garrus. He stared back at her in silence. Finally, she spoke up. “I wanted to be a geneticist,” she said. “There’s an abundance of opportunities available out there now. Maybe I should have taken one of those jobs, but no. I took this one. And I own up to my responsibilities, as ugly as they are. You need to know, Garrus, I’m not a bad person. I would never hurt anyone.” He didn’t say anything. Something told him that shit was about to hit the fan, and he wouldn’t like it when it did.

She took in a shuddering sigh. “God, this is a risk,” she said. “I can’t … I can’t lie to you. Or to Commander Shepard. I learned through others’ mistakes – it never works out in the end. Listen, I … I’ve got a problem. Um, I had an associate. Someone who worked here with me previously.”

“Selara,” Garrus said. Quintessa nodded.

“She … well, we never really agreed with each other. She wanted the Protheans to be released before they were ready. My only reservation was that they were unpredictable. We had more tests to run to prove that they wouldn’t endanger the galaxy. You understand that, don’t you?” He nodded. “She thought I was being heartless, and she left. I was sad to see her go. We were close friends, but there was nothing I could do. We knew that she’d copied our research, took it with her, but all attempts to locate her proved futile. So we did what we do best. We just continued our research. And it’s saved lives. With any luck, we’ll be able to figure out cures without having horrible side effects tacked onto them. That’s what our objective has always been. And things were going great for a while, but then … Well, we found out that Selara was using the research for something totally unintentional. I know she got the idea from me, but I did it to protect people. She’s …”

“She’s doing it to hurt.”

Quintessa ran her hands over her face. “She sent me a message,” she said, her voice muffled behind her palms. “It was the first time I’d heard from her in months. And it had these vague little threats, that she wasn’t alone in her opinions, and people had found out. They were angry at me. I got scared.” He didn’t like where this was going. Not one bit. Garrus had figured it out before she even said it. “I began running studies on how to reintegrate the Protheans into the galaxy some time ago. Now that an imminent attack is upon us, I’m glad that I did.”

“And?” He tried to keep his voice even.

She dropped her hands and looked up at him. “And they’re not dangerous to us,” she said. “But they are to our enemies. I can provide you with the research results, if need be.”

“Did you release them?”

“No,” she said. “Not yet. But we almost did, when we found out that the Council was sending a Spectre after us. They’re still not ready, though. Their immune systems require a few more days. But if she decides to follow through on that threat, if she decides to attack, I’ll have no choice. Even if it means that the Council declares war, too. Because I dedicated everything to this. It’s saving lives, and I can’t throw that away on a misunderstanding.” She paused, licked her lips. “We were hoping to make things right with the Council, eventually,” she said. “Zelik, he’s a genius.” She chuckled wetly. “He, uh, figured out how to make armor that’s – well, it’s near indestructible. We also figured out how to extend lifespans for various species, potentially for hundreds, if not thousands of years. But like everything else, it came with drawbacks, and we couldn’t present our findings to the Council. We intend for this research to be used to benefit Council militaries, but as it stands currently, it would only put them at risk.”

Garrus considered it. She didn’t want to keep doing this. She wanted Council protection. She wanted to be on their good side again. He understood her reasoning; give them armor and technology that could buff up their military, and they might just let Protheans slide. It seemed like a compromise to Garrus, but it was too little, too late. “You could explain your side to Selara. Tell her you want to let the Protheans go eventually. Stop it before it gets too far.” She went silent. Garrus knew this wasn’t the first time she’d thought of that, but it was clear that like everything else, she’d tried that route. “I get it,” he said. “Some people get one taste of power and they can’t go back from that.” She nodded once, but still said nothing. She couldn’t even meet his gaze anymore. “Look, let me contact Shepard. She might be able to find a solution for this. Keep war from breaking out, and keep the Council out of your hair.”

“She’s a Spectre, Garrus.”

“Yeah, and my friend,” he replied. “I got some sway with her. What you’re doing here, it saved someone close to me. That’s not something I forget.” She looked back at him, lips parted. She wiped a stray tear off her cheek. “If we can fix this, what about the Protheans?” Quintessa shrugged. Sucked in air through her nose. She tucked her hands between her knees.

“It would give us some more time to prepare them for reintegration,” she said. “While they aren’t a threat, their immune systems need more preparation. It would also give us time to work things out with the Council. Make them see that we’re not trying to do any harm. Hopefully we can make Omega Council territory. Make it so that there’s some communication going on between us, so that they can see things the way we do.” She rolled her eyes, slumped her shoulders. “Talk about an impossible task. They don’t like the Geth, either. It’s stupid, isn’t it? Thinking that all this fighting is eventually going to bring peace to anyone. It’s war after war, and people are tired.”

“Seems a bit backwards, sure,” Garrus said. “But that’s how it goes.”

“Guess I should take your word for it,” she said, trying to smile again. “You are a Turian, after all.” She wiped her face dry again. “So, um. Before you contact Shepard, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Lantar. He was nervous about tonight. I take it things went well?” Garrus nodded. “Good. He’s a good guy, you know. Dedicates his life to this.”

“And you trust him?”

“He isn’t given enough sensitive information for me to not trust him,” Quintessa replied. “Not that he’s a special case. That’s just it. Very few people know the secrets of Delta because at any point in time, they can take it to the Council. Which is why you’re here. But Zelik already checked Lantar, and he’s in the clear.”

“We’re here because Aria told the Council about the Protheans,” Garrus replied. Quintessa’s eyes widened.

“Aria?” He nodded. “Aria had no clue about it, though. We were so small back then – just me, the Geth, Zelik, and Selara. And none of them would have gone to her.”

“You sure about that?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Quintessa said, “but Selara … she was hurt. But she would have never gone against me like that. She would have never compromised my safety.” Garrus scrutinized the woman for a brief moment.

Then, realization dawned on him. “She was in love with you.” Quintessa stilled, then nodded jerkily. Garrus swore under his breath and stood. “All right,” he said. “I’m going to get a hold of Shepard. Stay here.”

“But I need to talk to Zelik –”

Garrus held up a talon, instructing her to wait. She fell silent as he lifted his other hand to his omnitool. Shepard’s voice came into his communicator. “Hey, Garrus, find out about Delta?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And we got a big problem. Aria and Selara might be working together.”

Silence. Then, “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” he replied. “We’re in the Doru District. I’ll have someone go get you. And, uh, don’t bring Javik. For obvious reasons.”

“Copy that. We’ll stand by.”

The communicator disconnected, and he turned to look at Quintessa, who looked more concerned now than she had before. Her face had gone white, as if she’d just realized the shit storm that they’d landed themselves in. “Selara has that research,” she said. “And she knows what it’s capable of.” Now she was starting to get it. “She knows about the side effects – the biotics. But she doesn’t know how to control them. She left before Zelik figured it out. If she’s really working with Aria, then …”

“Then Aria’s about to be the strongest Asari in the galaxy,” Garrus finished for her. “And once she gets going, she’s not going to be able to stop herself.”

Death loomed over them like the prelude to a bad omen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever mention that I named my cat Commander Shepard? The vets get a good laugh about that one.

Sidonis and Garrus remained at the terminal, where they watched for any clue of Aria’s whereabouts. Liara, Shepard, and Quintessa sat in the living area, mostly keeping each other quiet company while the two Turians worked. While Quintessa seemed totally dissociated from what was happening, Shepard had a stern, concentrated look on her face. The Asari chalked it up to two different people having two different methods of dealing with stress. She felt bad for them both. She rested a hand on Shepard’s knee, which the commander grabbed and gently squeezed. Reassurance. Liara listened in on the conversation that Garrus and Sidonis were having. “… push that button there, might bring up some more results.”

“I know what I’m doing, Garrus.”

“Really? You had me fooled. Try it.”

“If I try it, will you stop breathing on my neck?”

Liara’s attention turned back to the scientist, watched as she stared off at the wall, blue eyes distant and empty. While Liara knew that something bad was brewing, she couldn’t put the whole picture together. She didn’t have all the facts. And like Shepard, she was starting to suspect that it was the Council’s fault. She cleared her throat. The sound made Quintessa jump. She looked at Liara, eyes coming into focus. “I was wondering if I could ask you something,” Liara said, trying to gently ease the girl into a conversation. Hopefully get some useful information out of her to make everything happen easier. Quintessa nodded. “I thought that Sidonis wasn’t an official member of your organization. I saw no record of his employment.” The scientist looked over her shoulder at Sidonis. Distracted by his work, he didn’t even notice. She looked back at Liara.

“It was by his own request,” she said. “He didn’t want Garrus thinking he was turning his life around just to get noticed. Thankless Turian honor or something like that.” And while Liara had hoped that this would spark more conversation, it just died after that. She glanced at Shepard, who shrugged. Quintessa just seemed perfectly satisfied with staring at the wall.

But at least Liara had comfort in knowing that she hadn’t received incorrect information. A great deal of it had been excluded, however, and she knew she had her work cut out for her if she was going to find everything out.

They all waited, the occasional hushed voices from Garrus and Sidonis breaking the quiet. Then, Sidonis said, “Got a hit.” Everyone stood from their seats at the same time. Quintessa was the first to reach the terminal, face flushed with worry and eyes wide as she stood next to Garrus to look over Sidonis’s shoulder. She didn’t seem pleased with what she saw. Slowly, Sidonis turned the terminal monitor around to face Liara and Shepard. The Asari recognized immediately what went wrong.

They didn’t find a hit on Aria. They found six. On Earth, the Citadel, Mars, Thessia, Imorkan, and Manae. Her eyes drifted over to Shepard. “Maybe she has associates in these locations,” she suggested. “They’re trying to distract us.”

“She definitely does,” Sidonis replied, turning the monitor back around. “That’s the only way she’d be able to fool us like this. The problem is that we’ve got people there, too. Imorkan has Sigma, our distribution center. They mainly find malfunctioned Geth and send us their parts, though they also help with … You know. Other stuff.”

“They already know,” Quintessa said, her voice seeming distant. “There’s a bank there, too. It’s where Zelik transports all of his money from various corrupt politicians so that we can get funding for our research. Since it’s located on Imorkan, it’s very difficult to track. Imorkan also has our security control center, Zeta. Sidonis operates it remotely, which makes it a bit more difficult for people to tamper with our systems.”

“So what about the other places?” Shepard asked.

“Clinics,” Quintessa replied. Liara was pleased that she’d snapped out of her withdrawal long enough to provide them some answers. Hopefully she could get enough information to begin working back on the Normandy. “We set them up to help take care of refugees during the Reaper War. Considering the catastrophic damage that came from the aftermath of the war, we offered to keep them standing to ease some of the burden off the Council.”

This time, it was Shepard who cast Liara the confused glance. The Asari shrugged. “The Council?” Garrus asked. Quintessa nodded. “And they know it was you?”

“Of course,” she replied. She finally stood up straight to look at him. “I told you, we were trying to work on repairing our relationship with them. This was step one. Then, once we could figure out the formula for rapid cell regeneration, which would not only prevent death via major illness but also age, we would offer that to them to buff up their militaries. Then we would mass produce armor for their soldiers. The Council agreed to see it through, and while our relationship is still rocky, they seemed glad that we were willing to offer our assistance.”

Garrus cleared his throat. Shepard frowned. Liara felt her head swimming. “Quintessa,” she said, as gently as she could, “why do you believe the Council sent a Spectre after you?”

“Because they found out about the Protheans,” she replied. “But as Garrus said, if you can handle our problem with Selara and Aria, then the Protheans can wait until we fix our issues with the Council. I have no problem supplying them with the research to prove that they aren’t dangerous.”

Shepard sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Quintessa and Sidonis seemed clueless, but the rest were suddenly starting to realize that this was more complicated now than it had ever been before. And while Liara couldn’t say for sure what the underlying cause of all the secrecy was, she was starting to get an idea on how to start looking. The Council hadn’t immediately been against Quintessa and her work, especially after they found that they could benefit from it. And while the Protheans could have certainly caused that change in heart, it didn’t explain why they would lie to Shepard in the first place. “Look, Tess.” Shepard leaned forward, pressing her palms against the desk. “The Council never planned on you surviving your work with Cerberus.” The girl shook her head, confused. “They sent you there to get information, and they figured that once you sent it back, Cerberus would find out and kill you. They’ve been using you from day one.”

“But that’s not possible,” Quintessa argued. “It’s the Council.”

“It’s politics,” Shepard said. “And it’s a dirty business. I’m sorry, Tess, but sometimes, they’re willing to throw people under the bus to get what they want.” Liara noticed a well-hidden sadness in Shepard’s tone. Empathy. Her heart sank. Shepard had just realized that she, like Quintessa, was one of those disposable people that the Council would get rid of just to further their goals. Not because Shepard was bad at her job, and they figured it would be easy to fool her – but precisely the opposite. She was too good at it. She took the safety of the galaxy, and each individual within it, seriously. And if she found out that about what they were doing – whatever it was – then she would see to it that they would be put down.

Whatever game they were playing at, it was a dangerous one. And Shepard had just landed herself in the middle, without any say in the matter. “Are you aware that they charged you with treason?” Shepard asked. Quintessa shook her head. “Yeah. I didn’t think so. Those clinics – all that stuff you’re offering them? They’re using you.”

“So then why try to get rid of me?” Quintessa asked.

“Probably found a way to get it a hell of a lot easier,” said Garrus. Quintessa nearly swayed on her feet, and for a moment, Liara worried herself with the idea that she might faint. She stepped around the desk to help steady the girl, guided her back to the sofa. Once again, she got that distant look in her eyes, but they seemed focused on whatever she was searching for. An explanation. A reason why.

Quintessa didn’t expect this. And it was a major blow to her. Total betrayal. Someone like Shepard would have come to expect it, but someone like Quintessa, who naively believed that every person was worth trust, sympathy, and forgiveness – it was like Liara was staring into a mirror, a reflection of who she had once been. A reflection that she desperately missed, but like Quintessa, had been forced to move on from it because of sudden, earth-shattering changes. She rubbed the girl’s back, empathy pouring through her. Her heart went out to the girl. She hoped Quintessa found peace in the chaos.

“Doubt it,” Sidonis piped up, responding to Garrus’s assumption. “They’re playing mind games. Weaving pretty intricate webs of lies. There’s nothing easy about that. There’s something deeper going on here. Someone’s offering them something to sweeten the pot.” He stood up from the terminal and folded his arms across his chest. “Take it from someone who made this mistake before. Only two things can make someone turn their back on their duty: Fear, and a pretty big reward.”

Liara looked up from Quintessa, eyes focusing on Sidonis. “But the difference between you and the Council,” she said, “is that you don’t situate yourself on a pedestal. You never believed you were above repercussion.” She watched as Garrus’s mandibles shifted. “Goddess. This is bad.”

“Can’t be as bad as Reapers,” Garrus said, trying to lighten the mood.

“It might be,” Shepard replied. “Might even be worse. Instead of Reapers, we got politicians people trust, trying to do harm to people who don’t deserve it. And unlike the Reapers, we won’t have the galaxy on our side this time. They’re going to believe every word the Council says. So we’ve got a choice to make.” Garrus’s eyes drifted down toward Quintessa, who seemed whiter now than she ever had before. Sidonis tried to remain tall and proud, but Liara could see his doubts turning against him. Liara blinked once, setting her jaw. She knew what choice Shepard wanted them to make, and she also knew where Shepard stood personally on the matter. The commander wouldn’t put anyone in danger who was unwilling to go through it, which meant she would do it alone if she had to. Liara couldn’t let that happen. “Do we pretend like none of this matters to us, and save our own hide, or do we fight for what’s right and lead ourselves to certain death?”

A horrible, tangible quiet fell over the room. Liara felt her chest ache, felt her stomach tighten. While she didn’t know how much more of this she and the others could handle, she did know what they would all choose. What everyone in the room was thinking. Quintessa shivered, and Liara felt it too. That odd, deathly chill that fell upon them. “Certain death,” Quintessa said, eyes trailing across the tile of the floor. Liara rubbed her back with the palm of her hand again. “Because of something I did. The entire galaxy turning on each other. I never wanted that to happen.”

“I thought you were willing to risk war for this,” Garrus said.

Quintessa looked up at him, defeated. “Not to this extent,” she admitted. “I was prepared for everyone to be turned against _me_. Not against each other.” Shepard approached the girl, kneeling down before her. She waited until Quintessa looked at her, but it was clear that holding Shepard’s gaze was hard. Liara could read guilt on her face like an open book. “I’m sorry,” Quintessa said.

“Tess,” Shepard began, “this is something that’s bigger than you. It’s about three corrupt politicians that decided to use someone as their scapegoat to get something they wanted. You didn’t do anything that started a war. They were looking for a reason, and it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. All right?” Liara loved Shepard for this. Loved how gentle and sympathetic she could be. Loved how it was a direct contrast to the woman she was on the battlefield.

Loved everything about her.

But then, Liara was struck with the sudden realization that Shepard may have just hit something monumental. It was the belated understanding from her statement: The Council had been looking for a scapegoat. “Jane,” she said, moving to the edge of her seat. Shepard looked at her, waiting for her to continue. Liara’s eyes drifted across the room as she racked her brain. Shepard had been right. It was bigger than Quintessa. And while the foundation of Delta hadn’t started this battle, it certainly made it a lot more complicated. “It makes sense,” Liara said.

“What does?” Shepard asked.

Liara stood then, slowly pacing about the room as she talked herself through her thoughts. “The Council sent in a spy to collect information from Cerberus,” she said. “They wanted to know how you were brought back to life. When Quintessa failed to gather that information, but instead ran away with something bigger, she appeased the Council by offering them assistance during the Reaper War. Now they’re angry again.”

“Because of the Protheans,” Garrus said, as if they’d all already reached that conclusion. As if Liara was late to the game. The Asari looked up at him.

“But what if the Protheans have little to do with it?” Liara said. “What if it’s not the fact that Quintessa brought them back, but that she had the ability to do so?” She turned to face Quintessa. “During your studies, how many benefits did you take note of?”

Stunned, Quintessa shook her head. “I don’t know. Um, countless. If I had to make an estimate, I’d say it’s up in the thousands,” she said. “We’re discovering ways to cure diseases every single day. We also began research on how to provide humans with extraordinary biotic capabilities, and how to move that toward other species. Ways to control biotics. Accelerated aging as well as halting aging altogether. Rapid cell regeneration to quickly heal combat wounds naturally. Impenetrable armor that amplifies strength. The list goes on, and the potential for growth is exponential.” Then, as quickly as the confusion came about, it left. She seemed to grasp what Liara was reaching for. “They’re not after me,” she said. “They’re after all that we’ve done. I just happen to be in the way.”

One way or another, the Council wanted all obstacles out of their way, so that they could reach the ultimate goal: Collecting Quintessa's research, and using it for their own benefit. Likely, Liara figured, by having scientists they could control work on it. Make advancements that they knew they could rely on, without the wild card that was Quintessa making those same advancements for people that the Council decided didn't matter - not because Quintessa was dangerous, but because, as Shepard had said, it all boiled down to _politics_. The people who had the most advantage were the ones who were guaranteed to stay on top. Liara began forming a clearer picture with each passing second. By sending Shepard out to collect Quintessa, the Council was guaranteed with the same outcome no matter what the commander chose to do. Collect Quintessa and bring her back for trial, and they would have no one in their way. Should she choose to turn against the Council and side with Quintessa, then they had the resources and manpower available to take Shepard down, too - thereby eliminating both threats.

Because the only thing worse than a rogue spy that the Council couldn't control was a rogue Spectre that was on her side.

Once again, the room went silent as everyone considered the possibilities. Shepard was the first to break the silence. “If that’s the case,” she said, “then where do Selara and Aria fit in? Does the Council even know that they also have parts of the research?”

“It’s likely,” Liara replied. “But we have no definitive proof. If that’s the case, then we would have to consider all the possibilities that come from it. What could possibly benefit Aria and Selara in working with the Council?”

“Aria could get Omega back. But Selara doesn't have a reason to work with them. She wouldn't,” Quintessa said.

“You said that about her working with Aria, too,” Garrus reminded her.

“Yes, but Selara and I agreed on one major thing. It was that what came from this research would lead to good, and this – this goes against her morals. You didn’t know her like I did.”

“Yeah, but I’ve seen what people like Selara are willing to do to get revenge,” Garrus replied. Quintessa opened her mouth to argue, but soon closed it. She was willing to hear him out. He shrugged. “She was in love with you. My guess is, you didn’t return it. And if she’s the type of person to work with Aria, she might not be who you thought she was. So good on you, dodging that bullet.”

“No, you don’t understand. She would have never –”

Sidonis interrupted Quintessa this time. “Actually, I agree with Garrus on this one. Hate to say it, Tess, but I think you put your trust in the wrong person.” Quintessa licked her lips. She looked to Shepard for guidance, but found none. So she turned to Liara, who tried to smile.

“Again, this isn’t something that we have any proof about,” she reminded her. “So until we get that proof, I think it’s best that we don’t fuel the proverbial witch hunt.” But everyone already knew that, with or without proof, it was true.

Selara shouldn’t have been trusted in the first place.

* * *

Shepard fell down onto the sofa. “I’m exhausted,” she said. The sofa groaned under her weight. “And I’m getting fat.”

“You’re beautiful,” Liara reminded her.

“You sure know how to woo a woman.” Shepard sighed. “I have no clue what to do anymore. This is just turning into a huge puzzle that I have no idea how to solve.”

“You’ll find a way,” Liara reassured her. “You always do.” She moved toward the sofa, sat, and lifted Shepard’s head so that it rested on her lap. The Asari played with the commander’s hair, letting dyed red split ends fall from her fingers back onto cinnamon tinted cheeks. She’d meant it: Shepard was beautiful. Thirty-two years old, but even with all the battle wounds, she didn’t look a day over twenty. Liara had always thought that she looked like a human model – fit to appear on magazine covers. Her prominent cheekbones and strong jaw gave her face texture. She had gently arched, dark brown eyebrows – the only proof of her natural hair color. (Well, not the _only_ proof. Liara did get the opportunity to check on various occasions, after all.) Plump lips sat beneath a straight Greek nose. Her eyes – hazel, round, beautiful to stare into, though they were currently closed. And underneath all that armor, Shepard’s body had been lined with lithe muscle and ample curves.

If she were Asari, she would have been the most beautiful one.

“I admire that about you, Jane,” Liara said. Shepard opened an eye, the corners of her lips tilting up in amusement. “You always manage to make the impossible seem like it’s within reach. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Shepard sat up, her shaggy hair framing her heart-shaped face. She leaned into Liara. Kissed her. Soft lips. Not a hint of the aggression she knew Shepard could show sometimes. Their passion for each other showed itself in a variety of ways. Sometimes, Shepard could be assertive – commanding, even. Sometimes, she preferred to be on the receiving end of it. Liara could feel her intentions already, knowing that this was not a night for either. For now, Shepard just wanted to feel peace, because moments like these – when they were alone together – were the only times that she could get that. So if Liara could provide even the smallest distraction from Shepard’s problems, she would gladly do it – even if just for a small moment in time.

Shepard helped Liara disrobe, undressing her from top to bottom, stopping only when she was able to pull Liara’s nude body closer to her own. They embraced, shared kisses. Liara’s pupils dilated. _Embraced eternity._ Shepard’s fingers slid down the gently textured skin of Liara’s back, prompting chills to go down her spine as purple biotic aura embraced the air, consuming them until they were lost in the galaxy, together, at peace.

The mattress welcomed them, made no sound as Liara balanced herself on her knees to strip Shepard of her clothes. The commander’s lips pressed against Liara’s stomach, leaving little wet trails between her breasts and down her belly. Liara pressed Shepard down, urging her to relax. Together, they recalled the same memories: Whispers of _I love you_. Shepard’s nervous laughter when Liara had agreed to marry her. Excited discussions about future families. Memory’s shifted to interpretation. Liara pressed further into Shepard’s mind until the commander felt it: Hope, and a promise.

None of those days would go wasted, and they would find it all. Together.

Liara pressed her lips against Shepard’s thighs, kissing gently as the woman beneath her hummed in pure joy. Pleasure. A vision of satisfaction – of unadulterated bliss. Shepard was beautiful. There was no word in any language to describe how perfectly representative she was of everything Liara held precious, everything she held close to her heart.

When Liara’s tongue trailed along Shepard’s entrance, she heard a quiet, rapturous sigh. Shepard’s legs twitched. One dark knee drew up, parted wider. _More_. Liara’s eyes trailed up Shepard’s body, watching as her back arched and her arms stretched above her body to grab at the pillow beneath her head. She circled her hips against Liara’s tongue, eyes closed as she became mesmerized by their happiest memories. Memories that Liara watched with her, that made her heart sing with joy. Different layers of pleasure – physical, emotional, even spiritual.

Shepard’s thighs quivered as she fought against tightening them around Liara’s head. She bit down into her lip, desperately trying to muffle her moans. The memories faded, and Shepard became one with the _moment_. Liara’s lips, enclosed around her clit – the shockwaves down her body that the Asari felt, too. The strong, pounding beat of her heart. The heat in her belly. It all consumed Liara, as well. She didn’t need to be told; she felt the orgasm just as Shepard did. Felt the strong, pulsing contractions. Felt the abyss, the clear connection to some higher meaning. An epiphany.

 _Perfection_.

It existed, here, an equation of human and Asari, combined.

Liara rested her cheek against Shepard’s hip, watching as the commander gasped for breath. Her fingers slowly relaxed against the pillow, releasing it from her tight grip. Liara’s eyes closed, breathing in the scent of unity.

And for the first time since she had been called on this mission, Shepard fell into a calm, peaceful slumber. Liara followed soon after.

* * *

When she woke up, she was greeted with the sight of passing stars. The Normandy had taken flight again. Next to her, Shepard rolled over. “Hey,” the commander said. Liara hummed. Rubbed sleep from her eyes. “We were out for a few hours.”

“Where are we going?” asked Liara, sitting up slowly.

“Imorkan,” Shepard replied. “Delta’s security is our priority right now.” She leaned forward, kissed Liara on the forehead. “You’re beautiful, too, you know,” she said. Liara faced her, smiled with tired eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jane.” She watched as Shepard rose from bed, collected her clothes, and began pulling them on.

“You know,” Shepard said, “once this is all done and over with, Thessia might be a great place to settle down. Have a family. Good for Asari kids, right?” She straightened her shirt over her hips. “Lots of temples there.”

“I take that as a sign that you’re feeling more optimistic about the outcome of this mission,” Liara said. Shepard looked over her shoulder, a smile on her face. One of the rare genuine ones that she didn’t wear just to put people at ease.

“Yeah, actually,” she said. “I am. Thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love making things up about various cultures and having dudes just talk about dude stuff. So adorable. Someone give these men hugs.

Cool grass on summer’s farmland. It caressed his ankles as he approached the door. A happy smile met him there. A girl with brown hair, freckles, and sparkling eyes. She stepped forward carefully, wrapped her arms around him. Whispered in his ear, “Welcome home.” He made a quip that he couldn’t understand, but she seemed to, because she laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit,” she said. “Come on in. Mom made your favorite tonight.”

Hilary led him through the entrance of the house. They took off their shoes by the door, because the shine of the floors indicated they had just been mopped. The sun shone in brightly through the windows, nearly blinding him with white rays. He followed her down the hall. Past the living room and bathroom until they were at the kitchen. His parents were there, young and vibrant as they had been when he was a child. “Breakfast for dinner?” His mother stacked three pancakes onto a plate. His father lit up a cigarette, and she took it from him. “Not at the table. You want to give him cancer, too?”

He sat down. Said something about how ruined lungs were nothing compared to … compared to what? He couldn’t remember. But Hilary laughed again, that same joyful, ringing laughter that he remembered after all these years. He grinned at her. A secret shared between the two of them. She wrinkled her nose, wriggled it, and it was his turn to laugh. Inside jokes. His father patted his shoulder. “Good to have you back, son.”

This time, he remembered what he said, because it echoed as everything else faded away: “Yeah. Just wish I could stay this time.”

* * *

Joker jerked awake, hand instinctively coming to rub at his face. It had been warmed with sleep. Elevated blood pressure, or something like that. Hell, he didn’t know. He wasn’t a doctor. He lazily opened his eyes and gazed about the room. Still on the Normandy. Still steering her to certain death. He sighed, sat up straighter in his chair. “How long was I out?” he asked.

“You were dreaming,” EDI said. “I would assume three hours, at least.” She turned the air conditioner on higher in the cockpit before swiveling her chair around to face him. “Are you all right? Your heartrate accelerated.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a dream that Javik was chasing me again.” EDI didn’t look too convinced, but at least she didn’t push it. “Do me a favor and wake me up next time.”

Oh no. He knew that look. It was the same damn look she got whenever he said something she wasn’t sure about. “You haven’t been sleeping properly since the Reaper War, Jeff,” she said.

He snorted. “You just stay awake all night, watching me while I sleep? News flash, EDI, that's what the robots in the movies do before they try to take over.”

“If there’s nothing interesting on television, then I watch you why I contemplate what I need to do in order to rule the galaxy, yes,” EDI replied. Well, at least she had a sense of humor about it. “Something has been bothering you.”

“It’s nothing, EDI.”

“I have searched the extranet for possibilities, and your symptoms may indicate post-traumatic stress disorder,” EDI said. Okay, now she was pushing it, and it made Joker uncomfortable. But what could he do about it? Tell her to drop the subject? Teach her it wasn’t right to worry about people that she cared for? No, that wasn’t the message Joker wanted to send. So he let her continue. Sacrificing his comfort was the right thing to do in this instance. She was still learning, after all. He checked to make sure they were still on course while she spoke. “It’s generally suggested that you seek treatment in the form of therapy.”

“Well, only doctors we got on board are the ones that make Protheans, so it looks like I'm up shit creek without a paddle.” He looked sidelong at her. Obviously, that was the wrong thing to say, if her frown was any indication. “I’m fine, EDI. You kind of have to get used to all this stuff. Dissociate from it. Unless you want to go insane.” Hell, maybe he was already insane. He’d have to be, to take this job. He knew from day one that going on yet another mission with Commander Shepard would lead him straight into the jaws of death. But maybe he was just so exhausted that he didn’t care anymore.

No. That was a lie. He did care. And maybe he was a little bitter about it. Things were finally starting to look up for him. He and EDI were working out all right. They were still testing what they could do in their relationship, given that she was in the process of learning about love. And, admittedly, so was he. Wasn’t like he’d ever had a stable relationship before. His work didn’t really allow for it. Neither did his condition. Having a girlfriend that didn’t have an organic sex drive helped them wait a bit longer, figure out the kinks - pun sort of intended. And while Joker certainly had a sex drive, he also had hands to take care of that. At least he wouldn’t break his own damn leg by jerking off too much.

… Right?

EDI continued speaking. “Suppressing your emotions can only make the symptoms worse,” she said. “Every website suggests you seek healthier coping mechanisms, such as speaking to loved ones.” Joker chuckled. “I’m here for you, Jeff.”

“I know you are, EDI,” he said. “You’re my right hand woman.” He waited for her to get the joke. She didn’t. “Because … you know. You sit on my right side.” She offered a sympathy smile. That wasn’t the kind of reaction that he was gunning for. Damn, he was losing his touch. “You try making people laugh after you dream about a two-hundred pound Prothean trying to probe you,” he said, and while he sounded defensive, he wasn’t. You win some, you lose some, right?

But EDI wasn’t one to change the subject. She kept pressing the issue, and while Joker admired her tenacity sometimes, there were other times when it just got on his nerves. But again, he forced himself to remember that she was still learning what was appropriate and what wasn’t. He tried to be as patient as possible with her, so when she spoke again, he just closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Are you worried about the outcome of this mission?”

“If I weren’t, I’d be the most confident man in the galaxy.”

“A logical fallacy. We’ve already determined that your sense of humor comes from your insecurities.” All humor did. So she wasn’t really wrong there. “Additionally, I believe your dreams about Javik suggest some deep-rooted, repressed urges.” Joker frowned at her. Not funny, EDI. She tried to bite back a smile. “For what it’s worth, I believe we’re all worried.”

“Yeah, _that_ makes me feel like being scared shitless is just good old Joker, being himself.” Just told him that he had every reason in the world to be worried, really.

“Is the purpose of complex organic life not to share the burdens of others, no matter how identical they may be?” EDI offered one of her kind, patient smiles. “I’ve given it some thought, and I’ve determined that must be the case. Why else would people fight so bravely for the survival of others, even though it puts their own survival at risk? You all have the common goal of living for as long as you can, and yet even when that goal is threatened, you worry more about the weight others must carry. You fight so that they don’t have to. This is no different.” She waited to see if he understood what she was saying. Yeah, he got it. He just didn’t have anything to say. “I’m worried too, Jeff. So talk to me. You may find that I understand better than you expect.”

Joker sucked in air through his teeth. What was he supposed to tell her? That he resented the commander for forcing him to go along with this? That he couldn’t handle the pressure anymore? He’d signed up for it, had thrown his life away himself. This was all his doing. It wasn’t right to cast the blame on anyone else, and he knew it – but still. He was angry. Now he actually had stuff to live for, and the commander was throwing them straight into war with the rest of the galaxy. The only allies they’d have were … what? The rest of the galactic outcasts? Hundreds of tank-bred Protheans, the Geth, and rogues from other various species? What good would that do them against the best? The same people that had created the war machine that was Commander Jane Shepard? How in the hell did they compete with that?

EDI must have interpreted Joker’s silence as total resistance, because she gave up on trying to make him talk. Instead, she turned her seat to face the front again. He almost felt bad for dodging the questions, but he soon realized that she wasn’t too upset. “Can I ask you something, Jeff?”

“Fire away, babe.”

“Why is it that organics constantly engage in war?”

He couldn’t answer that. Personally, he’d rather live in a world where war didn’t exist. But he couldn’t very well get it. “Because people are assholes, EDI. Thought you’d figured that out by now.” She glanced at him. Apparently, his answer wasn’t satisfactory enough, but really, wasn’t that all war boiled down to? Someone wanted a slice of pie that had been forbidden to them?

“Will there ever be a time when war isn’t present?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Probably not. With any luck, though, maybe that Tess woman’ll breed the asshole out of people.”

“If life is filled with constant strife and pain, then what’s the point?” EDI asked. Oddly, despite the despair normally associated with the question, she didn’t seem upset when she asked it. Joker watched her carefully, trying to interpret exactly what she was trying to get out of him. And then it hit him.

EDI had taken a stab at what could possibly be bothering him. She’d assumed that he was suffering from PTSD, and drew the connection that it had to do with the Reaper War. And from her observations, she figured that recent troubles had triggered deep, negative reactions in him. The nightmares. The fear of sleep. The refusal to open up about it. And when he didn’t talk about it, she opened up the dialogue, knowing that he would comfort her. That it would make him feel better. Like he wasn’t useless in the universe. Like he actually had _meaning_. And it came during the most remarkable times. In both the good moments, and the scary ones that separated them.

God, he loved her.

Joker held out his hand, palm up. Without looking at him, EDI slowly slid her cool fingers through his, and gave a gentle squeeze. “There’s always a point, EDI,” he said. And if it weren’t for her, he wasn’t sure he would have ever said it in the first place. But he had, and now not only was it on his mind, but there was some truth to it.

This, as a moment that defined a life that transcended single frames of time, gave Joker hope.

* * *

EDI said that she would take over piloting the ship while Joker went to get himself some coffee. He carefully hobbled out of the elevator and into the mess hall, seeing James, Garrus, and that other Turian, Sidonis. While James leaned against a stove to monitor food he was making, Garrus and Sidonis leaned against a wall as they chatted idly. Garrus’s eyes shifted toward Joker. “You look like crap,” he said.

“Coming from you, that means something.” Joker made his way to the coffee pot as Garrus chuckled. “Hey, why’d the Turian cross the road?” As the coffee brewed, he turned to face Garrus. James had this grin on his face like he just _knew_ this was going to be a good one. Sidonis crossed his arms over his chest, waiting to see if this would be worth his time. Garrus tilted his chin up. A silent prompt for Joker to finish. “To get to the C-Sec recruiting agency.”

While James and Garrus seemed to get a small kick out of this, Sidonis seemed less than impressed. Joker chalked it up to him being the token, stick-up-his-ass Turian and figured he’d get the guy to loosen up sooner or later. Another voice drifted over the group, from behind Joker: “It is always a pleasure, seeing vital crew members wasting time while the commander works to compensate for your disengagement.” Joker rolled his eyes, turned to face Javik. He’d been nothing but a pain in the ass since he’d heard about the Protheans’ revival. Not that Joker blamed him for taking it seriously; they were his people. But it seemed like they’d taken one step forward and two back. He was back to his typical dissociation from the group. He barely even left the cargo port anymore.

Javik’s four eyes drifted over to Sidonis, and he sneered, but said nothing. Good. Joker didn’t want to have to remind him that it had been Shepard’s decision to let the guy on the ship. If she and Garrus could find it in themselves to forgive Sidonis, then Javik could take his opinions and shove it. The way Joker saw it, the guy could be a vital asset. No one knew that he worked at Delta, and he had some valuable insider knowledge about going into hiding that they could really benefit from.

Apparently sensing the hostility, Sidonis tensed. Kept his gaze on Javik, didn’t falter once. James cleared his throat. “So, uh, you see the Prothean they brought in? The one in the tank?” he asked. Javik tore his gaze away from Sidonis, this time turning it to James. “They call her Gija. She’s in the medical ward, if you wanna check her out.” Javik didn’t outwardly express his emotions, but Joker detected a hint of _something_ in the way his lip twitched. “What’s Gija mean in your language?” he asked. Good old James – probably the only one on the Normandy who ever gave Javik the chance to prove that he wasn’t the galaxy's biggest dick. Also probably the only one who kept trying to get on his good side despite how painfully obvious Javik made it that he didn’t want to consider anyone on the ship his friend. The closest he had was Shepard, and that was more out of respect than it was out of any deep connection formed.

Javik’s stern lips parted for his answer: “Bird of fire,” he said. Joker snorted, ignoring the glare he got from the Prothean.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Name the first tank-bred Prothean after a damned phoenix. Like that’s not predictable.”

“Phoenix,” Garrus said, humming. “Human lore, right?”

“Yeah,” James replied. “Apparently when it dies, it comes to life again because of its ashes or some shit.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. Joker never really bought into the idea that James was just a dumb flirt, but he’d never say that out loud. He figured he knew more about human mythology than he let on. Everyone had to have a nerd side. Garrus had it with technology. Joker liked ships – enough to actually want to have _sex_ with one. And Shepard had a major hard-on for breaking bones. While James’s passion probably came in the form of women, battle, and working out, Joker figured that there was something deeper going on in that guy’s head that he wouldn’t openly talk about. He was probably a hell of a lot more well-read than anyone gave him credit for.

“We have something similar,” Garrus said. “Old Turian legend. Says that if the Spirits favor someone enough, when they die, they get reborn as someone destined to become legend.”

“You believe that?” asked James.

“Don’t know anyone who does,” Garrus said. “But it’s like a bedtime story for our kids.”

“I believe it,” Sidonis said. “Lost my shot at it a long time ago, but if you think about it, it makes sense.” Joker sensed a nauseatingly sentimental moment coming up, but fortunately it never did. The unspoken end to his claim still lingered in the air, though: If the Spirits didn’t turn Turians into legends, how in the hell was someone like Garrus alive?

Sperm and ovum, Joker thought. Just like everyone else.

“Birds of fire were not symbolic of rebirth to my people,” Javik said, immediately shooting that claim down. “Ancient Protheans believed that if you were fortunate enough to see one, you would conquer all of your foes in battle.”

“Anyone else want to go in there and rub the Prothean Buddha’s belly now?” Joker asked. James snorted. Javik frowned. Jeeze, dude, lighten up a bit.

“Well, I hope that she carries some kind of good luck,” Garrus said. “We’re gonna need it.”

Joker poured himself a cup of coffee. “Stuff’ll kill you,” James said.

“Just add it to the growing list,” Joker replied. “So, any of you guys hear from the Commander since last night?” No one replied. It wasn’t like her to keep herself holed up in her cabin. Joker was well aware that this was dangerous business they were getting involved in, and she was probably dreading it – but she normally communicated openly with the crew. “Well, if anyone with halfway decent legs wants to head up there and let her know we’ll be at Imorkan in about forty-eight hours, that’d be great.”

“Why can’t you do it?” asked Sidonis.

“Hey, it was a risk for me to just take the elevator this far. One bump and my shins shatter.”

“Oh,” Sidonis said, recognition flashing across his features. “That’s right. Forgot about that. Sorry.”

“Sometimes I wonder, though,” Garrus hummed, “if you just use that as an excuse to be lazy.”

“If I did, you’d never know,” Joker replied. Apparently through with talking, Javik turned on his heel to head back to the cargo port. Joker scoffed. “Man, as if one Prothean wasn’t enough. We already got Sergeant Salt on board, and now we have to deal with his girlfriend. I’m glad Shepard’s making friends, but this is getting ridiculous.” He took a sip of his coffee. Hated the bitter taste. He never was a fan of it, but it helped keep him awake, at least.

“Gija’s not a threat to us,” Sidonis said. “Tess and Zelik went all out, just to make sure.”

“Never thought I’d meet a Salarian crazier than Mordin, but Zelik proved me wrong.” Joker moved to sit at a table, grateful to get the weight off his legs for a bit. “I don’t care if they find a cure for Vrolik. I’m not trusting that guy with a needle.”

“It’s a bit more painful than just a needle,” Sidonis said. “They put you in a machine and spend hours rewriting your genes. Thankfully, you’re unconscious for most of it.”

“Shit, I wouldn’t trust that, either,” James said. “But they’re all right by me. Curing disease and stuff. I can get behind that.”

“You’re forgetting the part where they’re literally reviving an extinct species,” Joker said. “A species that's hell bent on enslaving us. There’s a movie about why that’s a bad idea. Hasn’t _anyone_ seen Jurassic Park?” Old, but good. He still quoted it from time to time, but sadly, there weren’t many people familiar with antiquated cinema, so very few got the references.

James shrugged. “Can’t be worse than Javik,” he said.

“And that’s supposed to comfort me how?” asked Joker.

“Javik’s all right. Could have turned against us, but he didn’t.”

Garrus came to James’s defense. “Plus, even after the Reaper War, he's still hanging around, helping out.” Joker snorted. Last he’d heard, Garrus didn’t care much for the Prothean. What the hell changed his mind? “Takes a hell of a soldier with a lot of loyalty to do that.”

“Loyalty to who?” Joker asked. “Shepard, or the Protheans?” He let that thought linger in their heads for a bit before saying, “Yeah. Thought so.”

Not that Joker didn’t doubt that Javik was loyal to Shepard, but he wondered when that ended. And he wondered if the guy would turn his back on her if she’d decided not to release an army of pissed-off Protheans. Call him an independent thinker, but he didn’t believe that they were as on their side as the others kept claiming. Javik’s stories all indicated that the Protheans wanted to conquer humans. Hell, Javik still brought it up from time to time, as if he had wet dreams about it every night.

But hey, Joker wasn’t a scientist, so what the hell did he know, right?

He abandoned the coffee, deciding the horrible taste wasn’t worth being able to stay awake for another couple of hours. He’d rather deal with passing out at work, even if it meant having dreams about his dead family. Whatever James had been cooking smelled good, but on top of everything else plaguing him, Joker had all but lost his appetite. But the smell seemed to have attracted attention, because Quintessa stepped out of the medical bay, and her eyes immediately fell toward the stove. “What is that?” she asked.

“Making tamales for dinner tonight,” James replied. “Plenty to go around, if you want some.”

“Beef or pork?”

“Pork,” James said. “Better for the body.” He looked her over. “Not that you need to worry about that. Your body's plenty good.” Joker groaned inwardly. Quintessa didn’t seem to notice James’s flirtations, regardless, which made the pilot cringe even harder. He didn’t know who he felt worse for: James, for being dismissed, or Quintessa, for being oblivious. Guess even scientists had things they weren’t well-versed on.

“I may take you up on that offer, then,” she said. “Lantar, Zelik and I would like to have a word with you. Company matters.” The Turian pushed himself off the wall and followed Quintessa back into the medical bay.

Joker whistled lowly. “Man. Good thing you’re by a faucet. You’re gonna need some cold water for that shut-down burn.” James shook his head and turned to monitor the food again.

“Probably not single, anyway,” he said.

Sure, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.

“No, she’s single,” Garrus said, sounding a little too confident in his assumptions. “You’re just not her type, Jimmy.” Joker sat back in his seat, realizing immediately what was going on. He was just going to let this one unfold right before his eyes, thankful that he was here to witness it. Age old rivalry.

James turned from the stove, raising one eyebrow at Garrus, who leaned coolly against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. “Yeah? How do you know that?” Garrus shrugged.

“People like that don’t have time for relationships,” he said. “Unless the person they’re with complements their career.”

“Maybe she’s with the Salarian, then.”

Garrus laughed. “Salarians don’t waste their time on that,” he countered.

“That crazy son of a bitch might,” James said.

“Well, I won’t deny that. But I think it goes against their methods. They’d rather play with computers than women.”

“Sounds like someone else we know,” Joker said. James grinned at him, and Garrus shook his head. “How many marriage proposals did you say you turned down? Hundreds?”

“Thousands,” Garrus replied.

“That’s fucking loco, man. You know what I’d do if I got that many people lining up just to marry me?”

“Turn tail and run,” Joker said. “We heard about what happened when Shepard actually hit on you, too.”

James tried to dismiss it with a wave of his hand, but Garrus wasn’t going to let him live that down. “You talk a big game, but walking the walk – now, that’s something only men with _experience_ can do.”

“That’s funny,” Joker said. “Real funny. I mean, that you would say that. ‘Cause last I checked, you _still_ turned down thousands of girls that wanted to marry you. But hey, that’s probably a good thing. Anyone who wants their last name to be _Vakarian_ is probably just a little crazy.”

“I don’t like jumping right into permanent situations,” Garrus said.

“Marriage doesn’t have to be permanent,” James replied. “Don’t like her, just divorce her.”

“That’s not how it works with Turians,” Garrus argued. “When we pick a mate, we’re in it for the long haul. So sure, they knew about the things I’d done – but they didn’t know me. And I sure as hell didn’t know them. Didn’t have the time to change that, either.”

“Yeah, well, take it from me,” Joker said, “you guys are missing out on a lot of good times.”

“Rich,” James said. “Especially coming from the cabron who couldn’t get a girl up until EDI.”

“Yeah,” Garrus said, “but EDI’s a good woman to have. No denying that.”

“Thank you, Garrus,” Joker said. “When she’s our robot overlord, I’ll make sure she spares you.”


End file.
